Sunday, May 8, 2011

My mom (and my dad) adopted me when I was around 24-28 days old. I guess mine was a typical story back then. Unwed woman gets knocked up by her boyfriend and flees the scene of the crime in Illinois to come to California and have me in total secrecy so that she can return to her old life like nothing happened. Whatever. These things happen. All I know is that when they called up my mom (who had been on the waiting list to adopt a child for quite some time) and said that they had a kid there and did she want it, she did.

Apparently, there were no questions asked. Next thing my mom knew, she had a kid. And even when I could not have been any more difficult than I was, she stuck it out. And it was all voluntary. I know that being a mother is usually voluntary. (Well, maybe not usually any more. But I can't think about that right now. I'm trying to be positive. Thinking about all of the underaged, knocked-up, hussies out there is just going to depress me.) But when you can't have your own kids and you go out looking for one and you just take the first one that someone throws at you? That's pretty voluntary. That's also pretty insane.

I don't have any kids. It's just not my thing. But it was my mom's thing. She wanted to be a mom. And for the last 40-something years, she has been. And I could not be happier with how things turned out. I would have posted this sooner, but I spent the day doing things for my mom. Currently, she's noshing down on a fabulous dinner. And I couldn't be happier that she's my mom. I love her. And for some reason, she loves me. I don't even care why. I'm just glad that she does.